


edamame

by soreen (orphan_account)



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Food, How Do I Tag, M/M, dude i have no idea how to tag, edamura is a waiter ok, that moment when 'Edamame' actually has to do with edamame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26065129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/soreen
Summary: "You gotta help me, Edamura! Those guys are scarier than your face in the morning!"Edamura grinned, before grabbing the paper Meki gave him. He had at least ten minutes until he had to deliver their appetizers, and Meki was a fool. He had done the hardest part, which was to take their orders. Now, Makoto simply had to give them the food. How hard could it possibly be?And how scary could these guys even be?-or the one where Edamura is a waiter and Laurent is his customer
Relationships: Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 17
Kudos: 645





	edamame

**Author's Note:**

> I only just recently started this anime, and it is GREAT
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoy this fic whekjbkfjwb

"Welcome, welcome! Spices, ramen, take a look!"

The stars twinkled overhead, barely seen in comparison to the neon street signs posted every way you looked. Mingling chatter coming from locals and tourists alike, all enjoying Japan during nighttime.

"Oi, Edamura! Stop fumbling around, and come do some actual work!"

A young man groaned from his spot near the window, gazing outside. _Just a little more..._

" _OI!_ "

"Alright, alright, I'm coming!" he groaned, before shooting one last regretful look towards the darkened sky. _I'll be back._

He ran a hand through his brown hair, before tromping unceremoniously down the stairs and into the crowded restaurant. He grabbed the apron offered to him by Yamo with a nod of his head, before walking behind the counter and next to his boss, the restaurant's owner.

  
  


"I'm here, I'm here." Makoto Edamura sighed grumpily, sniffing the air. _Seems yakitori's popular tonight_.

Sou Tatsuki faced him with his hands on his wide hips, before pointing a grubby finger in his face. "As you should've been half an hour ago! What, do I pay you to stare out the window like some lovesick fool?" the older man said, but there was just the faintest hint of fondness there.

  
  


Edamura grinned sheepishly at him, waving a nonchalant hand. "Sorry, now," he rubbed his hands mischievously, "What would you have me do?"

  
  


Tatsuki rolled his eyes with a faint smile on his face, before slapping his back and shoving a notebook in his chest. "It's very crowded tonight, I'm afraid you're going to have to do multiple things at once. For now, go serve table three." and he pointed towards where a small crowd of five people were laughing loudly and overall making a mess of things.

  
  


He grimaced slightly, before pulling at his shirt's collar. "Don't worry, boss," he flashed his employer a reassuring grin, "You can count on me!"

  
  


And with that, he turned around to start his nighttime job.

  
  


-

  
  


" _No_ , I said a _double_ portion." the fat man snarled at him, his glasses hanging precariously to the side.

  
  


Makoto huffed and discreetly rolled his eyes, keeping his gaze on the tiny scribbles at the bottom of the page. "Terribly sorry, sir." he bowed his head with a forced smile, before retreating towards the kitchen. He might've started lightly jogging halfway through.

  
  


Once surrounded by his coworkers and the appetizing smells wafting from the pans, he felt as if he could relax, even if only just a tiny bit. The man plopped on a chair with a loud groan, earning several bemused looks from his friends, who were used to his behavior by then.

  
  


"Rough time, eh?" came the familiar voice of Yoma Shuuji, one of the cooks there. He glanced up to see the blond woman smiling at him from above, a soup ladle in her left hand.

  
  


"Man, you have no idea!" he complained, running one hand down his face, "It's completely packed! If this goes on, my shirt will be drenched in no time!"

  
  


The traitor laughed, patting his shoulder, and replying, "There, there. I'm sure it's not _that_ bad. By the way," Yoma leaned until she was by his ear, and whispered conspiratorially, "I saw Meki not so long ago, and he looked ready to piss his pants."

  
  


_That_ made him perk up. Meki was an obnoxious bastard who somehow managed to push each and every one of Edamura's buttons. If you searched in a dictionary the definition of 'bastard', Meki's picture was sure to pop up.

  
  


Encouraged by his display of interest, the blonde continued, "Yeah! Apparently some big hotshots decided to stop by our restaurants and say hi, and Meki got assigned to their table!"

  
  


He grinned widely, having completely forgotten his previous exhaustion. "Serves him right. Darn weasel always sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. Oh boy, I'd give anything to see his face right about now." Edamura patted his friend's arm and offered her a smile, "Thanks Yoma, you always know what to say."

  
  


She ruffled his hair teasingly, and blew him a cheeky kiss. "Can't have our best swindler failing on us on such an important case, can we?" the woman winked, laughing at the sour expression she got in response.

  
  


"For the last time, I'm not a swindler! If people -!"

  
  


But he didn't have time to finish his sentence, as the double doors to the kitchen opened, hitting the wall with a _smack_. Silence fell over the room, except for the faint bubbling coming from a pot of soup, and the sizzling of meat on the grill.

Edamura curiously peered around Yomo, wondering who it was that could've possibly entered. If it were to have been another employee, the other's wouldn't have had such strange reactions.

His eyes ran over the familiar uniforms, until they fell on a black suit, a dark splotch of ink in the snow. A man was standing there, one hand in his pocket, back straight and chin held up. A spot of light yellow above his head, and so he figured the guy was blonde. Makoto was too far to see his face, but something about the way he carried himself instantly irked him.

He looked to be casual and relaxed, even if he had just barged in a place he wasn't supposed to be, but that wasn't it. No, instead there was just some kind of... underlying _smugness_ , he'd say. Just the barest hint of him thinking himself as superior to the rest of them.

It made the tiny vein in his neck pulse like a beating drum.

  
  


"I'm sorry, sir, but you can't be here!" one of the cooks rushed forwards, hands displayed in front of her in a subtle gesture for the man to get out.

"Oh," the stranger drawled slowly, and Makoto wondered how a single person could awaken so much fury in him. He thought Meki had the cake, but this guy could certainly rival him. "Terribly sorry, I was searching for the restroom, and it seems I got lost."

  
  


Edamura scoffed, before muttering a quiet, " _Yeah, no kidding_.".

Yomo stepped on his foot, causing him to wince as discreetly as possible. (which wasn't very discreet, considering who we're talking about)

"Um, well, the bathroom is just down that hallway and to the right." the woman replied, pointing a finger in the direction she was speaking of.

The man didn't even glance that way. Makoto gazed closely at him, trying to make out more defining features, and came up with something that made the hair on his neck raise. In anger.

The stranger was sporting a tiny smirk as he regarded his coworker, lids covering half of his eyes in a languid motion. Edamura squinted viciously at him, wondering what eyes he had. As they say, they are the windows to the soul. And Makoto was sure something was off about this individual.

  
  


Two orbs suddenly met his, and he felt as if he were drowning in the wide ocean. Blue, vivid blue like the petals of forget-me-not, blue like the sky he oh-so-lovingly looked up at. They shone with a glint, and suddenly Edamura felt as if the man knew all of his secrets, as if he could read his very soul simply just by looking into his eyes.

It creeped him out to no end, and, though it terribly pained him to do so, he was the first one to break their visual contact, grumpily staring off to the side.

  
  


Due to him looking away, he did not see the smile quirking up the blonde's lips as he was ushered out of the kitchen.

  
  


-

  
  


"Well, don't you seem in a good mood." an elegant redhead said, lips barely turned up at the corners as she regarded the man. She took a sip of her equally crimson wine, before shooting him a smile, "What's got you like this?"

  
  


"Just something definitely..." the blonde man trailed off, leaning back in his chair, practically oozing casual confidence, "... _Interesting_ , let's say."

  
  


-

  
  


"Someone help me!" the black-haired man burst into the kitchen, face looking as white as a sheet. Edamura raised an eyebrow at Meki's dramatic behavior. _What could it have possibly been that made him act this way?_

  
  


Two brown eyes rounded up on him, and suddenly the asshole was up in his face, hands grabbing at his shirt. "You gotta help me, Edamura! Those guys are scarier than your face in the morning!"

  
  


He darkly scowled, shoving the pretentious bastard off of him. "If you want me to help you, then how about you stop insulting me, eh?" he snarled, taking vicious pleasure in the way Meki winced as if it was hurting him to realize he'd have to be nice to Edamura.

  
  


"F-fine! Take my order, just this once, and I swear I'll take your place during dish duty for a week." the man pleaded, his eyes darting to the side in nervous, short movements, as if he were expecting to see the devil there.

  
  


Edamura pretended to consider it, placing one hand on his chin and closing his eyes thoughtfully. He heard Yoma snort somewhere around there.

  
  


"Why should I? We're definitely not friends, and if someone was terrible enough to scare even you, then that means they have to be a real piece of work!" he pretended to ponder his options. It was true. Though it hurt him to admit, Meki could deal with scary customers all too well.

  
  


"J-just this once, please!"

  
  


Well, it definitely made his ego swell up, hearing his mortal enemy have to depend on his very word. He opened his eyes and came face to face with Meki, who actually had tears in the corner of his eyes. Edamura blinked in surprise, before shoving the other off.

  
  


"Fine, but you're on dish duty for two weeks," he flashed the other a smile and held up a peace sign. The man was gazing incredulously at him, and it seemed as if he wanted to say something. But with a furtive glance to the side, he huffed and nodded.

  
  


"Alright."

  
  


Edamura grinned, before grabbing the paper Meki gave him. He had at least ten minutes until he had to deliver their appetizers, and Meki was a fool. He had done the hardest part, which was to take their orders. Now, Makoto simply had to give them the food. How hard could it possibly be?

  
  


And how scary could these guys even be?

  
  


-

  
  


He balanced the trays on his arms, carefully avoiding the other people walking around the restaurant. He stepped over a stretched-out leg, eyes flying to the wine carafe he was carrying.

  
  


He kept his eyes on the floor, until he reached table five, the one which Meki had deserted like the coward he was. Edamura didn't look up keeping his eyes on his hands, even as he said, "Alright, here's your appetizers."

  
  


He placed one of the trays on the table, eyes flying to the one he had in his other hand. Something felt _weird_. As if... as if he was being watched.

He placed down the plate full of lobster (that was a lot of lobster, who even ate that much?), and discreetly glanced up. Blue. _The_ blue.

The asshole who somehow got on Makoto's every nerve without having even talked to him stared back with a smile.

Edamura masked his face as quickly as he could, wondering if he could just punch himself in the face right there. His eyes flew to the man's companions, and found they were two disturbingly pretty women, and a tall, imposing guy, whose stare never once strayed from the girl with short, brown hair.

  
  


Makoto took in the situation as fast as he could, all while placing down the food. The redhead was sipping at her drink with a bored smile on her face. Her hair was pinned up, no doubt to attract attention to her long neck. His eyes flew to the darker-skinned girl, who had a dopey, and slightly vague smile on her face, as she regarded the gruff male who seemed to follow her every move. He didn't miss the glint in her dark eyes.

  
  


_Ah_ , he pursed his lips to stop a grin, _they're swindlers. And looking at it, terribly good ones._

  
  


What he failed to do, was notice the blue eyes following even his slightest twitch.

  
  


"Alright," he told them, keeping his eyes on his notepad as a good waiter should. The last time he had made visual contact with a customer it hadn't ended too well. "Can I get you anything else?"

  
  


"Edamame." came a deep, but smooth voice which was coated in layers and layers of feigned nonchalance. But underneath, Makoto could hear the smugness and amusement. Oh yes, he could hear it. He looked up, and was not in the least surprised to see it was the blonde man with the blue eyes. One single moment passed with them glancing at each other, leaving Edamura feeling like he was naked. He didn't like it.

  
  


His gaze fell back on his notepad, right hand scribbling nonsense at the paper. Truthfully, he had an amazing memory, and did not in any way need to write anything down. But it would definitely creep people out, seeing a single waiter remember such long orders. "One portion of edamame coming up."

  
  


He turned to leave, but stopped short once the same voice said, "Your name?"

  
  


He turned around, shooting a confused glance towards the man. They didn't know each other, why in the world should he give his name to a stranger?

  
  


"Sorry?" Makoto asked, eyes darting towards where a kid was rolling around on the floor. _Darn brat could get an illness if he keeps it up._

  
  


"Your name," blondie repeated, the picture of tranquility, "What is it?"

  
  


Edamura hesitated, and even though he knew the longer he didn't meet the other's gaze, the easier it would be for the man to tell he was lying, he still could not do it. "...Arata."

  
  


He turned around and scampered away as fast as he could without it being suspicious, acutely aware of the eyes burning holes in his back.

  
  


-

  
  


"Well, Meki at least was right once." Makoto huffed, leaning on the counter, and watching Yoma sprinkle a colorful powder in a pot. "Those guys are definitely different from our usual."

"Oh, really?" the woman said, not looking up from where she was stirring her potion. She looked like a witch. "I would've never guessed they'd give even _you_ off vibes."

  
  


Edamura nibbled on his thumb, recounting the entourage. Yes, he recognized the fact that they were swindlers, but there was something else. They seemed... _powerful_. In the manner that they owned private planes, and had yachts at their easy disposal. Certainly not someone you just passed by on the street.

_Especially that -_

  
  


"Order for table five!" one of the cooks called, and Makoto jumped up and towards the trays filled with edamame. His mouth almost watered at the sight. He'd have to wait until he'd eat, though. _Darn work hours_.

  
  


Pushing the door with his hips, his eyes somehow immediately fell upon the group he had the utmost _pleasure_ to have encountered. Only then did he notice that he was not the only one watching them. More than half of the people in the restaurant were glancing at them every now and then. Some curious, some afraid, some lus-

Edamura averted his eyes back to the bowl of green beans, his cheeks flaming up violently. _Damn it!_

With smaller step than necessary, he made his way over to the table.

“One portion of edamame.” he said, choosing to act like he hadn't noticed the faint furrow in the shorter girl's eyebrows.

“Thank you.” the voice replied, forcing his eyes to jump up to azure ones. The blond man smiled at him, and to anyone else it would've looked terribly innocent. But, Edamura regarded his expression with the barest narrow of his eyes, he looked as if he had something in store. As if he were a child who got the candy. As if he were a gambler who owned the whole casino, and thus won regardless of what would happen.

In hindsight, considering he knew they were swindlers, Makoto really should've seen something fishy was going on here.

Looking at the man's smiling, and way-too-innocent face should sounded some alarm bells in his head. And they _did_ start blaring obnoxiously, when out of the corner of his eyes he saw the man's right hand inch towards his glass.

_No. He wouldn-_

_Clang!_

The glass fell to the ground with a loud sound, and Edamura thanked Tatsuki for not having actual glass glasses. His fists clenched on their own.

“Oh, so sorry!” the man faked a gasp of surprise, shocking Makoto in how good of an actor he was. He had to be careful. These guys could be more dangerous than he had initially thought.

“It's alright,” he raised a hand to stop the man from bending after the glass. He had no idea why the stranger had done this, nor why he was still faking going after the item on the floor. Still, he continued, “I'll get it.”

  
  


And he bent down and underneath the table, in search of the guilty glass. _Such fancy shoes, how much money do these guys have? Aha!_

He spotted it right near a pair of shiny, black dress shoes. He reached out his hand for it, and just as his fingers wrapped around the cool exterior, a different, much larger hand wrapped around his wrist. It was _huge_ compared to his own, and he felt as if the guy could snap it in two as easily as Makoto counted one, two, three.

  
  


He held his breath, watching as two blue eyes appeared underneath the table. They were crinkled at the corners, a million-dollar-winning smile paired with it. W _hat the heck is this guy doing in the middle of a restaurant?_

  
  


“ _Your name._ ” the blonde whispered, and Edamura felt as if his fingers would burn straight through his skin.

  
  


“ _Let go of me_.” he hissed back, trying to snatch his wrist away from the unrelenting grip. The guy was stronger than he looked.

  
  


“ _Your name_.” the man repeated, and his eyes somehow seemed to darken. The fingers tightened.

  
  


“ _Ow, what the hell man_?” he whispered, before giving up and saying, “ _Whatever, asshole. It's Edamura_.”

  
  


He managed to free his arm, and quickly jumped from under the table. He ignored the satisfied smile the bastard had on his face. _Tch, how annoying._ He couldn't wait until they were gone from the restaurant.

  
  


He turned around to leave, but someone called, “Edamame!”. He turned around, raising an eyebrow.

“You only just ordered them, you want another portion?” he asked, scratching at his chin in confusion. _How weird_. 

“No, didn't you say that was your name?” the blonde said, and Makoto couldn't even find it in himself to look at him, too afraid that a punch would escape him. And he wouldn't feel too bad about it either.

  
  


His eyebrows twitched, nicely pairing the vein pounding against his temple. “It's _Edamura_ , not ' _Edamame_ '. What the hell, I'm not a vegetable.” he muttered grumpily, before turning around to head back to the kitchen. _Fucking smug piece of shit._

  
  


-

  
  


“Oh, come on! It's only the main dish, as I convinced Meki to get the bill!” Yoma encouraged him, patting him on the shoulder.

He threw his head back and furrowed his eyebrows. His friend looked on in amusement. He had no idea how much like a cat he looked in that moment.

  
  


“He called me ' _Edamame_ ', Yoma! Do I look like a steamed, green piece of shit to you?” he complained, hands shaking his blonde friend. She chuckled in amusement, before ruffling his hair.

  
  


“Nope, not green. Just steamed, and shitty to me.” He squawked in indignation, pulling at her ponytail as she kept on laughing.

  
  


“Yeah, yeah,” Yoma batted his hands away, before pointing towards a tray filled with plates. “While you're not taking care of table five, why don't you go get those to Yatoshiri, would you?”

  
  


He perked up slightly at the thought of the kind, old man who came to their restaurant almost every other night. And the best part was: he had a _dog_!

“Alright.” he responded, picking it up, and leaving the kitchen. He made his way along the wall, as that was the easiest way to avoid the crowd, and thus stumbling.

As he walked, he failed to noticed the tall, blond man who was watching his every move like a hawk, arms crossed over one another.

  
  


_I should give him some bre-_

  
  


Edamura watched as the asshole from table five stood right behind another customer. The other man was sitting, and did not seem to be aware of someone behind him. As if in slow-motion, he saw grin the bastard flashed him, the hand subtly pushing at the glass of wine right on the corner of the table, the white of the man's eyes when they widened.

He felt it before he saw it. Cold liquid seeping through his shirt, making it stick uncomfortably to his skin. He was careful not to let Yatoshiri's food drop, but he _did_ let out a startled, albeit short yelp.

  
  


“Oh, dear me! I'm so sorry,” the customer jumped up from his chair, hands clasped in front of him, a regretful look on his face. He continued apologizing over and over again, and Makoto kept reassuring him _it's alright, there's no problem, it wasn't his fault_.

Which was the truth. Where _was_ that big pile of crap anyway?

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

A large hand settled on his shoulder, causing his eyes to immediately jump there, along with his whole body. He was easily startled, alright?

  
  


“I'll help him, it's no worry.” the man claimed, shooting the innocent customer a smile, and waving a nonchalant hand, as if saying, ' _all's well and ends well_ '.

  
  


Makoto wanted to run away, as he opened his mouth and muttered, “No, it's oka-”

  
  


“Alright, let's go, Edamame.” the man interrupted him, his grip tightening on his shoulder, steering him towards the restroom at the end of the hall.

“ _It's Edamura, darn it_.” he hissed, flailing his arms around as he tried to get out of the other man's hands. Not one customer seemed to notice his struggle, and if they did, well... They were certainly doing a fine job at ignoring it.

  
  


His movements grew even wilder as he saw the door to the bathroom appear. _I never thought I'd say this, but please let me not go to the toilet!_

No such luck. The door shut softly behind them, and the blonde released his grip on Edamura's shoulder. He immediately jumped away from him, rubbing at his arm, and snarling like a cat.

  
  


“What the fuck are you pulling here?” he snarled, readying his fists for a fight, if so the situation should arise. He watched as the man leaned on the door casually, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He regarded Makoto with an air of superiority, and that permanent smugness of his. He gave off the vibe of a kid whose pet turtle had done an incredible feat.

Edamura narrowed his eyes.

  
  


“My name's Laurent, Laurent Thierry.” the man, Laurent, said. Makoto raised an eyebrow at him, neither of them closing the distance between.

  
  


“Good for you? Why did you drag me here?” he questioned, definitely disliking the glint in the man's eyes.

  
  


“I want you to work for me.” Laurent ( _could Edamura call him by his name? Fuck it, he was calling him by his name_ ) smirked, straightening up from his casual pose.

  
  


“No, it's as easy as that.” Makoto smiled sweetly at him, but on the inside he was itching to bolt out the door.

  
  


“'No'?” the man said slowly, gazing at the floor. His hair painted shadows across his face, completely obscuring his eyes from view. Edamura felt a cold, dead weight settle in the pit of his stomach.

  
  


“Y-yes.” Darn it, he did _not_ just stutter.

  
  


“Alright.” Laurent affirmed sunnily, his smile looking a tad bit too innocent for Makoto to feel comfortable. The man stepped to the side, opening the door to the outside.

  
  


Edamura glanced suspiciously at him. _What the heck was going on here?_ He felt as if he was being played like a fiddle.

“Um,” he took hesitant steps until he was in the door-frame, and at no more than an arm's length away from the mysterious swindler.

  
  


He shot the other one last suspicious glance, before he darted out the door as fast as he could, immediately heading for his one and only refugee: the kitchen. Though he did have time to hear Laurent's parting words, words which made his skin coil in slight fear.

“See you later, Edamame!”

  
  


-

  
  


“Seriously, who'd even want to buy this restaurant?” Edamura grumbled, eyes already growing tired of the morning sunlight. “I mean sure, the food's great and all, but there're much more successful ones out there.”

  
  


His friend shrugged, but she had a giddy smile on his face as she turned around and told him, “I don't know, but I hear our new boss is a real hot piece of work!”

Makoto wrinkled his nose, but found he could not complain. At least the, whoever they were, hadn't taken Tatsuki's job. The previous owner hadn't ever stopped by their place. He hoped this one was the same.

The bell above the entrance door jingled, and the entirety of the shop's workers looked up and towards the visitor. Edamura found he had to do a double-take.

Laurent stood there, wearing a pink suit with a dark shirt underneath, a pair of sunglasses resting atop his blonde head. The man had a mischievous grin on his face as he regarded them. Makoto prayed what he was thinking was wrong.

  
  


“Edamura, meet Laurent Thierry.” Yoma said in excitement, vaguely gesturing towards the blond bastard. “He's our new boss!”

  
  


“Oh _no_.” Makoto whispered in horror.

  
  


“Oh _yes_.” Laurent replied in glee.

  
  


“I told you'd be working for me!”

  
  


  
  



End file.
